I Look Better On Paper

Long time human, first time comedian. Don't worry about the crush I have on your cat.

[maddyfarkas]

[maddyfarkas]

Apparently this happened last night. Good morning, all. I am alive.

[maddyfarkas]

My Theory on Attraction

There has to be some scientific reason I'm more inclined to tape a picture of Nick Offerman to my ceiling than a picture of Channing Tatum. What are the factors that go into forming someone's idea of "attractive"? I'm fairly certain David Spade is not a sexual icon to most other girls my age. But hey, I clearly won't judge you if you feel the same way. 

Is attraction based on the type of person you are exposed to most while growing up? That could be it. Comedians and musicians are my weak spot, and I grew up on U2 and Cheers. But then again the man I was most exposed to was my father. So unless you are REALLY FUCKING MESSED UP this theory probably doesn't hold.

Are we attracted to people with similar physical characteristics as ourselves? I do love men with Jew noses and brown hair, but this still doesn't explain my David Spade fetish. Damn, I'm overlooking something.

The logical explanation lies in past lives. I must have touched David's weiner in the 1700's and to this day I continue to crave it. This goes for all of the men I'm attracted to: Bill Hader, Ezra Koenig, Adam Scott, etc. Why, when I was 13, did I prefer Cole Sprouse over Dylan? Because Cole and I spent a romantic night together while Caesar was being murdered by Brutus. It's science, you guys. 

[maddyfarkas]

How To Get A Job!

What it takes to make it in today's society, from the perspective of an hilarious* 18 year-old. *questionable

I write it. You read it. We share fond memories. GO!!!

[dustinmartian-deactivated201806]

At Midnight one year ago, in only one month, a group of volunteers & artists helped me launch the Feral Audio collective with 5 new podcasts and an entire website. On a Zero dollar balance it spiraled out from there like a Fibonacci sequence. It took me to many people’s homes and in a tour bus all over the country. As of today, we have over 20 unique shows and are launching an experimental Zine called: “No Information.” I couldn’t begin to thank everyone by name, they are all equally important and exist by the dozens. This never belonged to me & is only driven by my endless dedication to living up to whatever those people saw in me. I’m gonna take care of everybody. Thank you for listening and a ton of love to the seemingly endless amount of artists & friends & donators who believed in a crazy idea & kept me solid through the highs & lows. Year two is gonna be ten times more fucking bananas. 🍌😻🍌

[maddyfarkas]

http://www.oxy.edu/campus-conversations/student-voices/finals-week

I blog for my school. Summer starts on Saturday. Read it.

[maddyfarkas]

Coachsmell-ya-later

Did you buy your Coachella ticket? Cool, I just bought my Coachella floral headband to match my Coachella fanny pack and my Coachella Doc Martens and my Coachella crop top that may or may not cover my left nipple - it's a surprise, just like that 2pack guy last year! See ya there!

Self-proclaimed "hipsters" belong in that category occupied by Scientologists and hairless cats - it's intriguing when there's just one of them but in herds they're nothing less than terrifying. I'm still not content with "hipster" being a term that is used on a daily basis. For someone who makes a vacation of going to Victoria's Secret and buying 7 for $25 underwear pairs in the "hipster" style, hearing people say that hipsters are causing problems in society really worries me - the comfort of my bottom is at stake! Whatever the human version of a hipster is (aside from a walking American Apparel ad) (I know, it surprised me too, but those models actually do have enough muscle to walk into their photo shoots), I'm pretty sure any attempt at classifying "it" was a bad idea. I put "it" in quotations because obviously humans aren't objects! Or maybe hipsters should be considered such. Is that irony? WILL THEY LIKE ME NOW???

I'm not actually going to get philosophical right now. That's not what I'm here for. I started off talking about Coachella because my goal was to get at the revelation I had the other day. My mainstream music taste of White Stripes, U2, and Red Hot Chili Peppers has become a minority in this flood of bands who took their names from what I can only assume are randomly selected lines from Ayn Rand novels. I still pride myself in knowing the music of, and let alone knowing how to pronounce, !!!. And who would have thought I'd ever have difficulty finding someone to take my extra Franz Ferdinand ticket? (By the way, it was the greatest show ever, lame-o's.)

Whether or not hipsters really exist, are only self-proclaimed, or if this is actually the appropriate concluding argument for this post, I hate hipsters (NOT THE UNDERWEAR. I REPEAT). Coming from a survivor of the harsh claims society can make about a person who seemingly "fits" the "standards" of a "hipster," I can honestly say that it cuts deep. Real deep. I did not want it. I did not ask for it. But I will forever question my true identity because of it.

Now off to add a bit more dust to my Polaroid camera and snip a couple extra holes in those knee-high socks I bought from the flea market last week.

[maddyfarkas]

That one time I met Lady Gaga

[maddyfarkas]

She's in the egg, you guys

[maddyfarkas]

REJECTED!

I think I finally discovered the fault in my childhood: a lack of failure. (This does not include grades. C's and D's are friendly letters. Without them we would not have cats or doughnuts.)

What I'm referring to is in general a lack of not getting what I worked for. I think this is a result of only trying to get things that I knew I was capable of getting, whether that was making the basketball team or working Ticketmaster quickly enough to get tickets or getting accepted into a club based on being spirited and intellectual at a high school with minimal motivated students.

Yesterday, I got a rejection letter for a program at my college that I was more than extremely excited to be a part of. And it fucking sucked to read that. However, I don't think it would have been as difficult to accept if I had faced something like this in the past. I have been participating in programs like this since I was in middle school, and never have I been rejected from them, so logically in my head it was not an option this time. What I've discovered about rejection, after getting this letter yesterday, is that it's only bad because you can only focus on this thing for a long time after it happens. It becomes such a large part of your thoughts that it's hard to consider as something minimal. I mean, imagine having a baby. The joy that comes from that lingers for months...years. And sadness works in the same way. It masks all other emotions until some other really bad or really good thing comes along to take over your brain. For example, I unknowingly walked into a comedy show last night to find that Robin Williams was the surprise guest. That man has been a HUGE part of my childhood and it stunned me and brought me goosebumps to see him in person, five feet from where I was sitting. But the high that that experience brought me was still not as impacting as the sadness of yesterday's rejection. Therefore, I feel as though I did not get to fully take away what I should have from being so close to Robin. 

It's a sucky situation and I really don't have much else to say about it except that I almost wish my childhood had been a shit hole so that this would be easier to accept. But "unfortunately" I have led a great life and should probably be more grateful for everything. And now as I enter adulthood I need to get a grasp on the idea that expectations really can be set too high.

[maddyfarkas]

Enjoy. But if you don't then please don't tell me because I'll get super self-conscious and probably eat a whole bag of chips. It's too late in the night for that.

[maddyfarkas]

Things I will do when I have a car:

1. Dabble in improv classes 2. Find out whether platonic coffee dates are things that actually happen in the real world 3. Probably get lost Downtown and cry until I find two-way streets 4. Volunteer at soup kitchens (great photo op!!!!) 5. Get an internship which I will eventually quit because by that time I'll be super Twitter famous and so full of myself that being around other people is too much of a chore 6. Hoard stray cats 7. Waste money fixing and feeding and housing said cats 8. Go broke 9. Sell car 10. Live on street with twelve rabid cats

[maddyfarkas]

Woman problems or whatever

Sephora offered to give my mom and I free samples of two perfumes. Logically, I had to test them all out first. Didn't want to get stuck with a bummer. And now I am sitting on the far end of the couch in fear of my cat choking on my scent and dropping dead. I am a walking prostitute convention. I am all of the smells gathered from all of the prostitutes. I'm the perfume equivalent of a child's restaurant concoction of ketchup, ranch, and hot sauce. 

Screw you, Sephora, for making me consider a life of adultery. I smell delicious.

[maddyfarkas]

This post is less about cats than you think it will be

Am I allowed to get emotional on this blog? Fuck it, of course I am. I am my own boss. 

I'm putting more stress on myself than is necessary. Two papers and a midterm is not too much work, in the scheme of things. But combined with my self-diagnosed procrastiniosis (that's procrastination...if you couldn't tell...I probably didn't need to come up with a new name for that...) and weird bipolar attitude toward being social the past couple of days, everything is terrible. I'm under the impression that I have so much shit to do that I can't risk spending time doing anything but attempting to focus. Given, 95% of the time I spend alone "working" is not actually spent working, but rather thinking that I could be spending this time working, and that's what is important in my brain, apparently. If I'm out being a social person, then there is no possible way that I could be being productive. Therefore, I confine myself to the library or to my room in hopes of getting everything done that I need to get done. That never happens, though.

I don't know what's wrong. I wish I knew. There's a part of me that sees how ridiculous I'm being and knows my study habits well enough to know that I could leave my room for an hour and enjoy life. Then there's part of me that realizes all of that but can't physically muster up the strength to go out and do anything about it. I want to be with my friends. I want to get out of my room and relieve myself of stress, even if just for ten minutes. But who's to say that the minute I do that I don't find myself waking up on the roof tomorrow without a finished paper and with a really bad sunburn? (Movie plot idea...don't steal it.) 

I'm hungry. I'm sad. I miss people. I miss being motivated. I miss having my own space where I have the choice to be alone or not. I miss my cat, god damn it. Cats are great because you can tell them everything that is wrong with the world and they couldn't give less of a fuck. That's what makes them so incredible. More people should be like cats. If people cared less about all of the trivial shit in their lives, maybe we'd all get along better. Cats wouldn't care if the barista gave them an extra shot of espresso. Cats wouldn't care if Old Navy didn't carry their shoe size. Shit doesn't matter. Nothing matters except being happy and getting sleep. Neither of which applies to me right now. I've been telling all of you people for years that I want to be a cat. And you laughed at me. But look me dead in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't prefer to be a cat right now.

[maddyfarkas]

Hello Out There?!

Can someone clarify whether I'm logical or batshit crazy? (Only in regard to this. I am aware that I'm not 100% sane.)

There are two types of fans. Sorry, three. One is a tool for producing cool air. One obsesses over celebrities. And one admires said celebrities. But for the purpose of my inquiry, ignore the first one. The former seeks attention. He, or she, wants nothing more than an acknowledgement in the midst of stalking the celebrity's every move and every word and it gets to the point, for said fan, where the obsession becomes painful. Yes, I have been there (Re: Muse). The latter, however, looks at the celebrity as a friend. Rather than seeking mere acknowledgement, the fan desires a reciprocation of interest. He, or she, feels as though the admiration could potentially be mutual and hopes for something similar to a real friendship. 

I have found myself in the latter situation in regards to multiple people. And on some level, it starts to become more painful than the former type. I find myself feeling more annoying, more obsessive, and more desiring. While some of this may not be true, it's harder to figure out at what point I go too far because the goal is something bigger than a "Hello."

Look, I know I'm not crazy for thinking any of this and I know everyone who reads this will basically know what I'm talking about. This is my passive-aggressive apology toward any celebrity that I bother. Sorry I think you're cool or whatever.

[maddyfarkas]

Visit Original Link

Dragon Boy Suede || Hot Slob 

[maddyfarkas]

Make Way For Slacker

It's always a bad sign when you come to the realization that grades don't matter. Not only do I have even less interest in doing my work, but I have ten times more interest in doing everything else that isn't work. It drives me crazy that I can even have these thoughts and be OK with the fact that I'm taking them seriously. So what if I got a B on that geology test? So what if I got a C? D? What difference is that going to make in my life? I am smart and dedicated enough to never not pass a class or study for a test or not turn in a paper. I feel too much guilt to not do my work. But because of that, because I know that I will pass my classes and graduate under this media major or whatever I finally decide on doing, I see less reason to put in 100% effort in my schoolwork. Nothing I do here matters. Anything that I do that does matter is something I do independently of classes. That's the rough part of choosing a career that doesn't particularly have a major attached to it. It's all based in whether or not I can actually be funny on paper. And I think I have proven that (at least a little bit) in the blog posts I write for my school, and through this blog, and through Twitter. None of which revolves around grades. The only thing I can see myself truly benefiting from through my classes is becoming a better writer. Which I am. But I already am a good writer. And that isn't me bragging- it's me reiterating what every single teacher who I have written a paper for in school has told me. Which also gives me reason to try less. Because I know I'm capable of writing well and I know it shows.

Is this post enough to constitute me as a total piece of shit?

[maddyfarkas]

Glitz and shit

My friends back at school are at a "glitter party" tonight. I am struggling with a cotton ball, tissue, and nail polish remover to get six pieces of glitter off of my fingernail. There's a metaphor for our personalities buried in here somewhere...